


The Drive

by anavolena



Category: The Path (TV)
Genre: 1x08 The Shore Spoilers, Alcohol, Drunk Driving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6936457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anavolena/pseuds/anavolena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cal Roberts' mind wanders as he drives to Milton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drive

Cal was so out of practice. No longer able to easily find the perfect balance between drunk enough to stop thinking while still being able to function. Could he at least take solace in that? Not even a functional alcoholic any more. He raised the bottle to his mouth, and was surprised the cheap whisky didn’t gush out a slice in his throat. He remembered the weight of Silas falling on him, the hot stickiness of blood that wouldn’t stop gushing.

How had the blood happened? There had been something in his hand. A shard of pottery. A vase Sarah had brought him from Peru, a thank you for asking Silas to do 7R with her. She had been so radiant and he had to fight to not touch her as they had touched as kids. He’d gotten so drunk that night, turning the vase over and over in his hands, sobbing, resenting Eddie and thinking of Eddie touching Sarah.

Why was the vase broken? His stupor spins with Mary’s anger, the furor in her eyes. He wanted her to look on him again as the angel coming down from the sky. He would bring Sean back to her. He could fix this at least. And he wouldn’t think about Sean kissing her, while she pretended it was him. He wouldn’t think about the heat of her mouth. He wasn’t drunk enough. His cock was hardening, he remembered the way her tongue deftly found the perfect rhythm. He never imagined a tongue could be so skilled. How much was she worth…how much you gonna pay me for her. His erection evaporates as his chest puffs. Why couldn’t it have been Mary’s father, her pimp, when he held that shard in his hand. Why hadn’t he finished the job the first time.

Cal takes another drink from the plastic bottle, imagining the heat of that son of a bitch’s blood flowing through this fingers.


End file.
